


The One Who Loves You Will Make You Weep

by Minxie



Series: Power Exchange [4]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: AU, KINK: D/s, M/M, QAF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-01
Updated: 2010-03-01
Packaged: 2017-10-07 15:26:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/66457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minxie/pseuds/Minxie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Sighing, I scrub a hand over my face, and then up through my hair. "I was there, Mrs. Taylor. I saw that kid come up behind Justin, and I tried my best to stop him. In the end, I couldn't. I </i>watched<i> Justin take a bat to the head. So don't think you're the only one who is laying the blame at my feet."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Who Loves You Will Make You Weep

**Author's Note:**

> Fourth in my [power exchange 'verse](http://the-minx-17.insanejournal.com/tag/qaf+verse:+d/s), beginning [here](http://the-minx-17.insanejournal.com/292057.html#cutid1). Immediately follows [How Delicious to Corrupt](http://the-minx-17.insanejournal.com/302934.html#cutid1). Title is an Argentine proverb. *smmoches* to SunShineyDay for the beta read.

Time stands still when the bat connects with Justin's head, the crunch of bone echoing through the garage, reverberating off the concrete and metal.

In the background I can hear Hobbs moaning, cursing because I blew out his knee. I'm tempted to blow out more than that.

But Justin is my priority.

With his head cradled in my lap, I dig through my pockets, looking for my cell. My hands are eerily strong. None of the tremors I feel racing through my body reach my fingers as I dial the phone, calling for help, demanding that they hurry, telling them that Justin is fucking dying in a goddamn parking garage.

Dying because I failed him.

The ambulance ride is nothing more than a blur. The paramedics work around me, moving at what seems to be warp speed, asking questions — _Name? Allergies? Relationship?_ — and calling the hospital — _White male, eighteen. Head trauma…_

Jennifer is at the emergency room when we arrive. I don't know how she knew, don't know who called her. It sure as hell wasn't me. I only called emergency dispatch. Because Justin needed an ambulance, a doctor, a fucking miracle. Not his Mommy.

Just like he doesn't need me. There's nothing I can do for him. Nothing but wait.

And hope I can make it up to him. Earn his trust. His respect.

Not that I deserve any of it. Not after this, after thinking with everything — my emotions, my dick, my ego — except my fucking head.

Jennifer paces in the hallway: five steps and turn, five steps and turn. She stops when the doctors call for an operating room to be prepped, words like _pressure_ and _skull_ and _losing him_ painting a gruesome picture. Then she turns and stares at me, eyes filled with accusation. With blame.

I flinch away from her, from the look, and stumble down the hall and around the corner. Alone. Exhausted. Destroyed.

Because I failed him.

I'd promised to protect him, to shelter him. But, when it mattered most, I failed him. Failed myself. Spectacularly.

And I'm wearing his blood as testimony to that fact.

* * *

  
"Brian?"

One short glance at Daphne and I go back to looking down the hallway, staring into nothingness.

"They've got to release the pressure on his brain." Her voice is soft, like she knows I'm about to break apart at the seams. "He's on his way to the OR now. Might be a while before we hear anything."

I close my eyes, roll my lips together, wishing she would just leave me the fuck alone.

"You shouldn't be down here by yourself, Brian." She moves closer, stands right next to my chair, invading my space without hesitation, no thought whatsoever to fucking self-preservation. "If you won't come back with me, at least call someone."

Her hand feels heavy on my shoulder but I don't have the energy to push it away, to tell her to fuck off.

"Do you want me to call Michael?"

Swallowing against the burn in my throat, against the tight feeling in my chest, I shake my head. "Mikey is off to Portland, left tonight with Dr. Dave."

"Lindsay, then?"

"Christ, no." I sigh and drop my head back against the wall, looking up into her tear-stained face. "Go sit with Mrs. Taylor, Daphne."

"Bri…"

"Just go." Please just go.

She nods once. "For now. But I'll be back."

Jesus. Fuck. Teenagers today are tenacious little shits. Every fucking one of them.

But she's right. I do need someone here, someone to buffer me from the shitstorm that is sure to come when Jennifer shakes free of the shock and starts looking for someone to focus her anger on. There's no doubt it'll be directed my way.

I look down at me cell. It's covered in drying blood. Stained and abused, showing battle scars of its own. I'll call Cynthia tomorrow. Have her order a new one. A different model than this one.

Tomorrow can't come soon enough. For too many reasons to count.

I flip the phone open and dial a number. "Hey," my voice is worn and scratchy, strained with pent up emotion. "I need you to come to Allegheny General."

* * *

  
I hear them before I see them. Tony and Jess, both rushing to my side. When they turn the corner — Tony big and solid, dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, Jess small and crying, following behind in his pajamas — I feel the tight control I have on my emotions start to crack.

Christ. Calling them may have been a bad idea. They know me too well.

But it's when Tony sits next to me, Jess squats in front of me. When both of them touch me, comfort me. When Jess curls his fingers around mine, and Tony wraps one hand over the back of my neck, pulls me into his embrace that I finally break, the slight tremors growing into all-consuming body shudders.

"Let go, Brian."

I can't, I won't. I deserve this, earned it with a kiss on the dance floor. Tony should know that.

One tear rolls down my face. Only because I can't stop it.

Tony's grip tightens fractionally, and he gently shakes me back and forth.

"Come on, just let go," he whispers.

"I couldn't… too fucking far…" I'm stammering, trying to explain. Explain my part in all of this. "I shouldn't have been there…"

"Let it out, boy," Tony growls, voice gruff and commanding. The tone he knows I'll react to. "We've got you."

The world shrinks to the feeling of Tony's hand on my neck, Jess' on my thighs. Offering comfort. Understanding. Support.

And then, with the night replaying in my mind, I shatter, sobbing uncontrollably as Tony brings his other arm up and around me, holding me, grounding me.

Jennifer's voice breaks through the white noise clogging my ears, the static overriding the heavy thud of Tony's heartbeat and the soft murmur of his words. She watches intently as I fight for a modicum of control, trying to quell the maelstrom of emotion that is defining the night.

I can't help but wonder how many gods I pissed off to warrant this colossal clusterfuck.

* * *

  
"He's —" Jennifer wrings her hands together, eyes moving from me to Tony and then back again. I don't think she's even managed to see Jess, kneeling quietly in front of me. "He's in a coma. They… the doctors drilled through his —" Her breath hitches and she swipes at the tears rolling over her cheeks. "They relieved the pressure on his brain. All that we can do now is wait."

She looks down at her hands. And then back at me, a new resolve in her eyes.

"What happened, Brian? Why were you even there?"

Tony slowly pulls his arms from around me, then, as he stands up, motions for Jess to take his place next to me. "Mrs. Taylor, my name is Tony. Tony Jacobs and this," he brushes a hand over Jess' forehead, "is my partner, Jess Brenner."

She looks startled to hear Tony speak.

"I'm here as a friend of Brian and Justin, not in any type of official capacity at all." He walks towards her, reaches out and puts a hand over hers. "But, in my experience as a police officer, now isn't the time for that conversation. Right now everyone needs to be concentrating on Justin. There will be plenty of time to hear about the events that led to this."

"But… You're a police officer?" She looks over Tony's shoulder and focuses on me. "Brian?"

"Mrs. Taylor, really." With a hand on her elbow, Tony turns Jennifer away from me, starts leading her down the hall. "Let me walk you back to your family."

I watch them head down the hallway and then, right before they turn the corner, I call out, "He asked me to. I was there because he asked me to be."

My words just make her cry harder.

Fuck.

* * *

  
"Today just proved what I've always known. Ryder is an idiot." I have one of Justin's limp hands in mine, telling him about the latest trials and tribulations of Brian Kinney, ad exec. It's the routine I've established over the past week: go to work all day, stop at Babylon for some pain management, and then, after Jennifer is sure to be gone, come to the hospital.

"You know, if you'd wake your ass up these conversations wouldn't be as fucking boring." I squeeze his hand, resist the urge to trace along the edge of the bandage. "I'm running out of shit to say, Justin. It's not like talking is even what I do best."

He's so fucking pale. Looks so young. Younger than his eighteen years for damn sure. Too damn young for me to be with. Especially when I let shit like this happen, shit that lands him in the fucking hospital, in a coma for eight days and counting.

"Come on, Justin. Wake up for me." I give in to the need and run my fingers through his hair, gently brush over the bandage covering a row of stitches. "Tell me what an ass I was, how I should have stopped that prick for getting to you."

"From what I hear, you stopped that kid from getting in a second lick."

Frowning, I jerk my head around and glare at the night nurse. "Thought we agreed you'd make some damn noise when you came in."

She shrugs, not in the least bit cowed by my attitude. "Didn't want to wake you if you managed to fall asleep."

Rolling my eyes, because we both know I don't sleep while I'm here, I call her out. "You're nosy."

"I'm hopeful." She perches on the side of Justin's bed, looking at me over Justin's still frame. "You need rest, Brian. You'll be no good to him when he wakes up if you're exhausted."

"Big assumption there, Linda." I drop my gaze to the sheets. "Who's saying he'll even want me here then."

* * *

  
"Crummy day?"

"Yeah." Watching Linda warily, I brush the rain from my hair. She looks like the cat that got the cream. "What's going on?"

"Nothing."

Right. Because after spending two weeks together I wouldn't know when she's acting weird. I stop with my hand on Justin's door. "You sure there's nothing I need to know about?"

She nods. "You've got about ten minutes before I have to take his vitals."

Why the fuck is she telling me that? Not like I don't know the schedule already. "Great."

I slip in, letting the door shut behind me and make my way over to Justin's bed. Reaching out to turn the lamp on, I drop down in the chair, ready to start my usual rambling.

Only to stop when I see a pair of blue eyes watching my every move.

"Brian?"

Jesus. Fuck. "Christ. Justin. You're awake."

And I'm going to fucking kill that goddamn nurse, letting me come in here blind. Bitch.

* * *

  
Justin fights to keep his eyes open. "I didn't believe her."

"Who?" I'm holding his hand, his grasp loose and shaky. It's not much different from when he was in a coma, unaware of his surroundings. Of me being there. "Who didn't you believe?"

"The nurse." His eyes flutter shut again. "When she said you'd come, I didn't believe her."

I lean in and kiss his forehead, his cheek, his lips. All small, chaste brushings of my lips. "I'm here, Justin. Now go to sleep."

"You'll come back?"

I swallow hard. Will I? Does he want me to? "If that's what you want."

"Yeah. Earlier, before I fall asleep."

"Demanding little twat."

His lips curl into a smile content smile. "Yours, though."

Oh, shit. "Justin…"

Before I can say any more he drifts off to sleep, fingers still intertwined with mine. Leaving me with too many things, too many reasons why he can't be mine tumbling through my head.

* * *

  
"Daphne told me about our dance today."

"Yeah?" I try to feign disinterest. It doesn't work. I want to know what she had to say, what she saw that night. "And what'd she have to say?"

"That it was amazing." He reaches his left hand out, grabs my arm, and tugs until I move from the chair to his bed. "That _we_ were amazing."

Yeah, we were. I move back to the chair. "We were alright."

The world is conspiring against me. As usual. Because, even if I know I should stay away, should make a clean break of this right now, I can't. The loft is too empty. And I keep ending up here. Every fucking night.

"Brian…"

"You still can't remember anything?" Can't remember how fucking happy you were, we were? Can't remember that I couldn't get to you, that I could only scream your name?

"No." He shakes his head. "I remember our deal, dancing at Babylon in trade for a dance at my prom." His lips twitch and a light blush stains his cheeks. "I remember you fucking me through the mattress after I won."

"It was hot. Every fag in Babylon wanted you."

His blush darkens. "So you say."

"Not me, them. When they gave you that crown."

"Brian, why do you only come at night?"

I stand up, walk away, avoiding his attempt to grab me again. "Justin, look…"

"No, Brian."

I turn around, startled by the hard tone of his voice.

"Don't you dare."

"I couldn't get there, Justin. I saw him, but he was moving too fast…" I close my eyes for a second, let the memories from that moment flash through again. Just as real, just as crushing as the night it happened. "You need someone…"

"You, Brian. I need you."

I swallow hard, looking for the strength to push through. To do the right thing for once. "You need someone who can take care of you, protect you." I motion towards the bed. "That obviously isn't me."

"Please."

Shaking my head, I press a kiss to his forehead. "No, Justin. I want you safe. Even if that means you're with someone else."

And then, before my resolve can slip, I walk out the door. The sound of his tears, the stuttered sighs of his breathing, his crying, follow me into the hall. They'll haunt me longer than the bashing. Because I brought them on myself, no outside help at all.

* * *

  
Pain management at its finest. Booze and drugs. Dick and ass. Since walking out on Justin a week ago, I've perfected the art of getting wasted and still making it to work in the morning, of sucking and fucking my way through the night, of burying thoughts of Justin in the dark recesses of my mind for most of the day.

It's the few hours I can't escape him that I cave and go to the hospital. Late at night, when I'm stoned out of my mind and I know Justin will be asleep. Linda keeps me updated on Justin's progress, snarks about how he'd be further along if he knew I was there.

If only I could ignore Tony's scathing messages as easily as I ignore Linda's disappointed looks. Thankfully the pain management helps in that arena too. Words become a haze of distorted noise with the right amount of Beam.

I roll the loft door back, heading out for another round of drinking and tricks, and find Tony on the other side of it, leaning against the wall. Arms crossed over his chest like a fucking immovable object. Obviously waiting for me to leave, waiting to catch me unaware.

He succeeded.

"Tony. Great to see you, but, really, you should have called." I motion to the club clothes, the beer in my hand. "I'm on my way out."

"You're on your way to my house."

He grabs me by my jacket, tugging me behind him as he takes the stairs two at a time, not slowing down as I trip and weave behind him.

"In," he growls, shoving me towards his pick-up. "Jess will bring the jeep over tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"If I think you're ready for it." He cuts his eyes over and, after staring for a minute, shakes his head. "I should kick your sorry, white ass instead of taking you home."

"Maybe." And, really, I should have expected this. Tony is vested in this, in me, in Justin. No way he'd just walk the fuck away and leave it.

"No maybe about it, Kinney." He guns the engine and pulls out into traffic. "You're being a fucking idiot and, frankly, I've had enough."

"Huh?" Because, really, it's not like I've been crying on his shoulder. "It's not like I've been banging on your door…"

"Shut up." He reaches over and flicks his fingers against my nipple, the thin shirt I'm wearing offering no protection against the biting sting. "You're not allowed to talk until you're sober."

Oh, shit. We're back to the rules.

"Understand, boy?"

Dropping my head back against the seat, I swallow. Hard. I'm screwed.

So fucking screwed.

"Yeah, I understand."

* * *

  
"Goddammit, Tony." I groan and roll over, slamming a pillow over my head. "Stop banging those fucking things together."

"Rise and shine, Kinney-boy." He crashes the two pots together, right next to my fucking ear. "Get your hungover ass out of bed."

I sit up and then, when he keeps on making that fucking racket, teeter to a stand. "Alright, I'm up."

"You got ten minutes to shower, then it goes cold. Clothes are on the counter."

Jesus. There are times I hate Tony with a passion. "You're an ass, Jacobs. A big, burly black bear of an ass."

"Shower, and then breakfast." He bangs the pots together one more time and grins. "Don't make me come get you."

* * *

  
Nine minutes later I'm walking into the kitchen. I've experienced more than one cold shower at Tony's hand, today is not the day to see if he's changed any. My head is pounding enough as it is.

"Good morning, boy."

I drop my head and sigh. "Christ, we really are back to the rules."

"I'll give you that one, seeing as you were beyond shitfaced last night." He taps my shoulder and I look up. "Good morning, boy."

I feel the blush climb over my neck and shoulders. "Good morning, Sir."

He points to the counter. Two pieces of toast, a glass of guava juice, and a steaming mug of coffee are waiting for me.

"Eat and then clean up." He slaps me on the ass and heads out of the kitchen. "Safe room in thirty."

"Thirty, Sir." And I drop down on the stool, wondering if I'll survive Tony's displeasure without getting my ass spanked.

Probably not if I'm here for more than a day.

* * *

  
Jess is in the safe room when I walk in. "Hey, kid."

"Welcome back, pretty boy." He motions me over, pats one of the floor pillows beside him.

I flop down on the pillow, turning until I can put my head in Jess' lap. "He's pissed, isn't he?"

"He's worried."

Snorting, I shake my head. "Nothing to worry about."

"We've been around the two of you, Brian. We've seen firsthand just how much you care. Justin's in the hospital, and you're on a bender." Jess drags his fingers through my hair, massages over my scalp and down to my neck. "Think he has a right to be worried. Think we all have a right to be worried."

Put like that, Jess has a point. "Fuck."

"Yeah, pretty much." Jess leans down and brushes a kiss over my forehead. "Talk to him, Brian. Get this worked out and then get your ass back where it belongs."

Waiting until Jess is at the door, I ask, "And where is that?"

He looks back and smiles softly. "At Justin's side."

"No, kid, it's not." I close my eyes and sigh. "Not anymore."

"And why the hell not?"

My eyes pop open, dart around the room until I find him. Tony is leaning against the doorjamb between the safe room and the playroom. He heard everything. Goddammit! That little fucking Jess set me up.

"I asked you a question, Brian."

"I appreciate what you're trying to do, Tony. But really…"

My words cut off with an _oof_. Closing my eyes was a clear mistake, put me at a tactical disadvantage. Proven by the fact that Tony is now sitting on top of me, pinning me to the ground with a hand on either side of my head.

"Open your eyes, boy, and answer my fucking question."

I blink once and then look him directly in the eyes. He's disappointed. I'm pissed. The perfect combination for a blow up.

"Did Justin tell you to fuck off?"

Glaring, I snarl, "You know he didn't."

"So you both talked about it, decided jointly…"

"Fuck, no." I buck up against his weight. "Now get off me."

He shakes his head. "You know how to end this, Brian. If that's what you really want, do it."

He waits several beats, giving me an opportunity to use my safeword. But I can't make myself say it. Can't make myself say two simple words. Because I need a fucking fight as much as I want Tony to show me that I was wrong. That I shouldn't have walked away.

"Good boy."

The small praise warms me, tells me that by choosing to face this, face him, I'm starting the task of banishing the disappointment in Tony's eyes.

"You ended it. Unilaterally." I nod. One hard jerk of my head. "Why, Brian?"

"Because I don't deserve him."

Tony presses his forehead against mine. "You do realize that if everyone lived by such an indefinable standard, we'd all be alone?"

Rolling my eyes, I shake my head. "It's not indefinable, Tony. I couldn't protect him. I failed. Him, me, everyone."

"Not me." When I close my eyes, he bumps our heads together. "You didn't fail me."

"Tony, don't."

"Shut up and listen." He arches a brow and waits for me to close my mouth. "You took a step with Justin, a step that goes way beyond the scene. You opened yourself to another person. More than even happened here, Brian."

I look away, embarrassed.

"Hey," Tony pushes gently against my jaw until I look at him again. "And once you made the commitment, there was no holding you back. One look and anyone who knows you at all saw your little secret. You love that boy."

Blinking, I work at masking the emotions, giving Tony what I hope is a blank stare.

"And he loves you. That's why he wanted you at his prom, it's why you went."

"And look what the fuck happened." I struggle against Tony's hold again. "He's in the _hospital_. They _drilled_ into his fucking _skull_. He can't even hold a goddamn _pencil_. So, you know what, Tony, if this is love, you can keep it."

"Yeah, love hurts sometimes, but it's too late for you. Love is what keeps you going back every night. No matter how fucked up you get, how many tricks you turn, love wins in the end. Every fucking night, Brian." He sits back, rests his ass on my thighs. "So, tell me, Kinney, how long are you going to fight this? How long can you go on hurting Justin with your hiding?"

I wince when the words sink in, when I pony up and admit that I probably am hurting Justin. "Christ. That was a low blow."

"Nah, boy." He grunts and stands up, steps over me and opens the door. "That was the truth."

* * *

  
Tony's right. I… care about Justin. And Justin knows that. At least until the past week, he knew. For the past week my actions have said just the opposite. Now there's no telling what the little shit thinks.

Christ. It'll take me twenty years to make this up to him. Longer if I don't hurry and get my ass to the hospital, get started on rebuilding what I destroyed.

Pushing to a stand, I wander out of the safe room and start searching the house for Tony. I need my goddamn jeep. Now.

"Tony!" I check the bedroom and the kitchen. The living room and then the damn den. The house is empty. Goddammit. "Tony, you fucker, where are you?"

Then I remember the old car Tony likes to work on and head straight to the garage. And find him buried head first under the hood.

"You ignored me."

Tony takes a step back from the engine and nods. "You were being a rude jackass."

"I want my jeep." I look around the garage, hoping to see a shock of red hair. "Where's Jess? Gone to get it?"

"Maybe." He starts washing the grease off his hands.

"Tony, I _need_ my fucking car."

He gives me a knowing look. "Need it, huh?"

"Yes." I grind my teeth together. He's going to make me say it. "I want to go to the hospital. To see Justin. Happy now?"

Tossing the rag down, he nods. "Just a little. Go get dressed and I'll have Jess meet us there with your precious little trick mobile."

"You don't need to go with me." I'm really not a child, no matter how Tony acts.

"And let you fuck up my hard work between here and the hospital?" Laughing, he slaps me on the back as he walks by. "I don't think so, boy."

* * *

  
Finding Mrs. Taylor outside Justin's room shouldn't be the surprise that it is. One look at her face, at the absolute distaste, and I start to slow my pace. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Maybe I should have waited until later. Like after normal visiting hours. "Mrs. Taylor."

Tony puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes, grounding me. Thank fuck he insisted on coming with me.

She cants her head to the side. "Brian. Officer."

"Tony, please." Tony smiles and offers his hand. "I see we all had the same idea of keeping Justin company today."

"So it seems." Jennifer frowns and then, standing straighter, looks at me. "I'd like a word with Brian, if you don't mind, Tony."

I give Tony a slight nod and watch as he slips around Jennifer and into Justin's room. "Mrs. Taylor?"

"I'm surprised to see you, Brian."

Dropping my gaze, I press my lips together.

"I was under the impression that you chose to end things with Justin."

"Mrs. Taylor…"

"Jennifer."

"Whatever. What the fuck are you're talking about?" Like I don't fucking know already.

"Justin has been upset lately." She moves, steps directly into my line of sight. "He said that you, to quote him, broke your word, forgot the rules."

He's right. That's exactly what I did.

"I won't pretend to understand what was going on between the two of you. And I wish that Justin wasn't hurting, that having you didn't mean so much to him."

Here it comes. And, from the look on her face, it won't be pretty.

"But it was because of you that he was almost killed." She winces as she says the words. "I've tried to accept him for who he is. To accept your world and his part of it. I've even tried to accept you. And as a result, I nearly lost him."

"Mrs. Taylor —"

She holds up a hand and I stop.

"If you really care about him — and I believe you do — you'll turn around and leave."

My eyes snap to her and I stare. She's fucking serious.

"Return my son to me, Brian. Please."

Sighing, I scrub a hand over my face, and then up through my hair. "I was there, Mrs. Taylor. I saw that kid come up behind Justin, and I tried my best to stop him. In the end, I couldn't. I _watched_ Justin take a bat to the head. So don't think you're the only one who is laying the blame at my feet."

"Then why come back? Why?"

She steps towards me and I move back. I'll be damned if I let her touch me.

"Because I didn't lose him. None of us did. So fuck if I'm going to give him away now." Taking a wide step around her, I move towards Justin's room. "If he blames me, if Justin tells me to get the fuck out, I'll go. But he's the only one with the right to ask that of me."

Wiping tears off her face, she watches me as I open the door, the look on her face one of resigned acceptance.

As soon as I cross the threshold into his room, Justin wraps an arm around me, pulls me in tight against him. "It wasn't your fault."

He leans back, cups my jaw with his hand, and, in a louder voice, repeats, "It wasn't your fault."

I hope to hell Jennifer eavesdrops just as much as her son does. Because there's no fucking way I'm leaving now.

* * *

  
"Mind if I cut in?" I wink at Justin as Miguel steps to the side, letting me take over with Justin's rehab exercises. I motion to the distance between us; it's a good foot further than the past few days. "He's making you work for it today."

"Not that I've been able to do it."

Pissiness. It's become Justin's default setting. There are days I'm tempted to tan his ass just to wake him up to the fact that he's still fucking alive.

Unfortunately that isn't an option right now. Aside from him still being in the hospital, we haven't had a moment's privacy to talk. Are we still together, whatever the hell that means? Yes.

Is it like it was before? Not by a long shot. Won't be until we talk, until I'm sure he trusts me. Until I trust myself.

"Look, don't think about it, okay?" I motion for him to toss me the ball, reaching to the right to catch the wild throw. "Just focus on what you're doing."

He frowns and nods, his signal that he's ready for me to lob it back. I toss the ball and midway his hands seizes, fingers curling, knuckles going white.

"Shit!" I watch as he shakes his hand, forces the fingers open and away from his palm. It's only the silent glare from Miguel that keeps me from moving to Justin's side. "Fuck!"

"C'mon." I hold my hands open, ready to spring left or right to catch the ball. "You can do it."

He shakes his head, ball cradled in his left hand. "No, I can't."

I look over to Miguel, arching a brow, asking if it's time for Justin to stop. In return he gives me a stupid smile and nods. In other words: keep pushing for now. "Yes, you can. C'mon."

And, more pissed off than plain pissy, Justin tosses the ball. Right to me. Weak as shit, but he hits the target.

Miguel claps his hands once and says, "Good one, Taylor."

"You're so full of shit."

But he's smiling now.

"Good enough to stop for today." Miguel takes the ball and pushes Justin on the shoulder. "Why don't you take Brian down to the cafeteria? Man looks like he's in serious need of some coffee."

Justin rolls his eyes. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing, Miguel. You know Brian will not drink that shit they have down there."

Miguel shrugs. "Okay then. Brian," and he turns to face me, lips twitching at the edges, "Justin's counselor wants him to work on his agoraphobia. Justin trusts you, and the cafeteria is generally less than half-full at this time of day. It'd be a good starting place."

"Miguel," Justin hisses.

The therapist cuts a glance towards Justin and smirks. "I gave you a way out. You're the one who put it back on me."

Red-faced, Justin grabs my hand, threading our fingers together, and starts towards the door. "I'm going. But when this goes to shit, remember it was your brilliant idea."

Miguel waves and grins. "See you tomorrow, Mr. Taylor."

That man takes way too much pleasure in torturing his patients. It's definitely one of his better qualities.

* * *

  
"Justin, you need to come home." Jennifer's voice carries from Justin's room into the corridor. "You need stability and calm. Do you really think you'll get that from Brian?"

Frowning, I stop just outside the door and listen. Obviously, since her direct push against me backfired, she's going after Justin now.

"He's been here every day. I doubt that will change when I go home."

Justin is pissed. I can hear it in the measure and clip of his words.

"No, he hasn't." This is the loudest I've ever heard Jennifer Taylor. There is a near hysterical edge in her tone. "He left you here. When it was too much for him to handle, he ran. What are you going to do when it happens again? When you have one too many nightmares, or one too many panic attacks?"

Everything in me wants to step into the room, to tell Jennifer Taylor exactly where she can shove her fucking questions, her accusations. Instead I stand still, listening carefully. It's the perfect opportunity to find out exactly where Justin's head is at.

And if he's the least bit worried, the least bit apprehensive, I'll support him moving in with his mother.

"Because he felt guilty. Because everything had been focused on me, including Brian, and he finally snapped."

Jesus. The boy does know me. That should have me running. Not standing here with the hints of a satisfied grin turning the corners of my mouth.

"Maybe it's because he is guilty."

Fuck. I can't… Yeah, actually, I _can_ believe she said that.

"Did you say that to him?" Something slams against the wall. I wince, hoping it was one of the many books piled on the table in Justin's room. "Did you?

"Yes."

"You had no right!" Justin's voice, hard and angry, hurt and betrayed, echoes through the wing.

"Justin," I hear Jennifer's heels clicking on the tile as she walks across the room. "I want you safe. Come home with me. Everything will be all right."

"Guess what? It's too fucking late."

There's a crash, the sound of glass breaking and I move quickly, walking through the door as Justin shatters another glass against the wall.

"Chris Hobbs made sure of that." His voice drops to a whisper, his eyes focused on his right hand. "Maybe it'd be better if he had killed me."

"Justin, come here." I inch closer, meeting him halfway. When he falls into my arms, crying and shuddering, I look over his shoulder and glare at Jennifer. I hold him tight, one hand rubbing up and down his back until his sobs taper off, then I ask, "Justin, are you ready to listen to me? To hear what I have to say?"

He nods, smearing even more fucking snot and tears over my shirt. Christ.

"You and I have a lot of things to figure out." I tip my head further down, pressing my lips over his ear, keeping my next statement between the two of us. "But, no matter what we decide, if I ever hear you say that again, I'll have you ass high over my knee in a matter of seconds. Understand?"

He huffs a laugh against my chest. "Promise?"

And I know he's asking about a fuck of a lot more than the threat to tan his ass. Swallowing once and then once more, I lean back and look him in the eye. "Promise."

* * *

  
Justin waits until after I've had my shower to ask, "Can we talk?"

"Anytime, told you that." I grab a beer and then follow him to the sofa, biting back a sigh of disappointment when, instead of curling against my chest, he sits at the opposite end, legs folded under him and arms crossed over his chest.

"You left."

I drain half the beer in one pull, wonder if maybe I shouldn't have grabbed the Beam for a chaser. "I did."

He huffs and shakes his head. "Why, Brian?"

"You seemed to have that all worked out earlier today." Stretching out, I poke Justin with my foot. "Doubting yourself now?"

Justin rolls his eyes, a small grin forming while his eyes lighten with amusement. "Not at all." And then he turns serious again. "The question is, are you?"

Fucking twat. Lures me in with the innocent smile, and then goes straight for the jugular. Jesus.

"Shouldn't I?" Draining the beer, I set the bottle on the floor and motion Justin over. Because if I'm going to do this — and I'm obviously going to do this — I'm at least going to be able to touch him. "Come here."

He doesn't hesitate, just scoots across the sofa, wiggling and squirming until we're in our usual, comfortable positions. My hand goes immediately to his back, slips under the loose shirt he's wearing and drags over his skin. Fuck, I missed this.

"I shouldn't have been there, Justin."

He opens his mouth but I shush him, put a finger on his lips, silently asking him to just let me talk. Let me get it out all at once. Because if he doesn't, if he insists on saying something now, everything is going to skitter away, all of the words I have planned, all of the thought I've put into this. Everything.

And avoiding this now will only come back to bite me in the ass later.

"I knew I didn't need to be there, figured it'd cause you a shitstorm of trouble in class on Monday." I just never imagined some jerk-off with a ball bat in his car and a head full of sanctimonious fury. "But I showed up, we danced one dance, and then, _fuck_…"

He presses his left hand flat against my chest, his thumb brushing a lazy path back-and-forth over my shirt, mimicking the motion of my hand on his back. A reassurance, a quiet gesture that I'm not accustomed to receiving, even less comfortable accepting.

"Thought you were dead, were going to die right there with your fucking head in my lap." My voice is deep and harsh, filled with everything I've tried to hide since breaking down that first night, crying on Tony's shoulder like some ridiculous queen. "And then, when you finally woke up…"

This is bullshit. I shake my head, go to push Justin off me, the need to pace, to drink suddenly overwhelming.

"No, Brian." Justin counters his weight against me, holds me in place. His hand moves from my chest to my jaw and, cupping my face, he tilts my head down until we're staring at each other eye-to-eye. "Don't push me away again."

"I'm not."

Lie. Lie. Lie.

"You are." He drags his thumb over my lip."But it won't be as easy to do as it was in the hospital."

I drop my forehead to his. "It wasn't easy then, Justin."

"That's good to know." Justin turns his head and busses a kiss over my shoulder. "You broke our rules."

"More times than you know." I think about the blind rage of drinking and drugging. Of sneaking into the hospital and watching, keeping myself away from him. I fucking abandoned him.

And still here he is. Curled against me. Acting more adult than I did. Christ.

He nods. "Probably."

"So." I draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "What now?"

He shakes his head. "Why ask me? You're the one…"

Who fucked up. He doesn't say it, but it's there all the same. "And that means it's your call."

Because it's his choice to trust me again. Or not.

Justin yawns and worms his way in closer. "I'm tired, Brian. I can't do this tonight."

I pull him tighter against my chest, kiss him chastely on his forehead. "Then we'll have this until you can."

 end (unless I come back to this verse sometime in the future)

Note: As this AU weaves in and out of canon, some lines of dialogue will be taken directly from the show. The scenes used in this piece are from episode 201 and 202. ♥ 


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